“Your mother talked too much, spending silly gossip all over Meryton.” Mr Bennet sighed with apparent regret.
“But we cannot blame her just because she is not present,” Jane said, her affection for Mrs Bennet evident.
“No,” Elizabeth replied firmly. “Not because she is absent but because she influenced you to make imprudent decisions.”
“Such as?” Jane asked.
“Such as riding in the rain when the carriage was at your disposal.”
“I did not protest. I was just as guilty as Mama in wanting to spend the night at Netherfield.”
“I regret to say that it was the most imprudent thing to do,” Elizabeth continued. “Not only did you become gravely ill, but your intentions behind that scheme were apparent to everyone. Mr Bingley’s sisters and Mr Darcy did not see your love but rather your desire to secure a wealthy husband.”
“Oh!” Jane exclaimed, distraught. “I never considered it in those terms. I was so honest, so deeply in love.”
“That is not how others perceived it, and then Mama cast the final blow by spreading rumours of an impending wedding throughout the neighbourhood.”
Jane gazed in despair, turning to her father, who nodded in agreement with Elizabeth’s words.
“But does that mean she can never speak to our neighbours again?” Jane asked, still determined to protect her mother.
“She must restrict herself to safe topics, not presenting her fancies as reality.”
“Oh!” Jane whispered, hiding her face in her hands while Mary comforted her.
“Jane, you must accept your and our family’s shortcomings. You will never change if you hide your feelings and allow your mother to make decisions for you,” Mr Bennet said.
“Mr Darcy advised his friend to leave, and he did so. It was cowardly, I say,” Elizabeth murmured, pained to tell Jane such things. Nevertheless, she hoped the shock would prompt her sister to reflect on her own errors and those of Mr Bingley, and would, eventually, help her move on.
“After all, he is a grown man who should be capable of making his own decisions regarding his choices and commitments.”
“Elizabeth is right again. But let us not throw out such unequivocal statements, my dear,” Mr Bennet said, casting a glance at Elizabeth, as he suspected the story was not quite so straightforward, and his daughter’s unrelenting sadness since her return held many unspoken truths.
“We do not hate anybody. Mr Darcy had every right to offer his friend his counsel. It is our fault that his opinion of our family was so unfavourable.”
“You mean erroneous!” Elizabeth said.
“He did me great harm,” Jane murmured.
“I should say unfavourable andlargely erroneous—if we are to be honest with ourselves. Now, Elizabeth,” Mr Bennet said gently, “tell us everything. From this moment, the story is yoursand Mr Darcy’s alone. Let the rest be set aside. He proposed, did he not?”
“He did,” Elizabeth replied. “And he was painfully forthright. He admitted quite openly that he had wrestled with himself before deciding to make the offer.”
“A detestable man!” Jane cried, unable to restrain her animosity for the gentleman she had considered most suited to her sister only a few days ago.
“A detestable man, you say? Well, that ‘detestable’ man proposed to your sister despite some significant doubts, while your extraordinary suitor fled without a word when his family urged him to do so.”
“Papa!” Elizabeth exclaimed, astonished by her father’s brusque remark.
“No, my dear. Jane must confront the truth in all its enormity for once. The truth about our family, her bearing and actions, the man she loves, and the man you love!”
“I did not say I loved him.”
“You did, Lizzy,” Mary protested, but her voice was only a murmur.
“It was unnecessary, my dear. Your feelings are evident in every gesture you make,” her father said gently.
“It is laughable. Like a second-rate play. I fell in love only after I rejected his proposal,” Elizabeth admitted in a rueful voice.
